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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165166">Fleeting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/pseuds/thisplace_ishaunted'>thisplace_ishaunted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Motionless in White (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Longing, M/M, Nostalgia, Pining, this is emo as hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:20:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/pseuds/thisplace_ishaunted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"How dare time pass.  How dare the softest moments of his life be taken away from him, memories fading slowly, his brain didn’t even know they were escaping him."</i>
</p>
<p>or, in other words, Ricky is nostalgic and emo and heartachingly texts Chris.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fleeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based on the song "West Virginia" by The Front Bottoms.  Please go listen to that song, or at least go read the lyrics.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XII7af9SrLI</p>
<p>I tried my best to capture a feeling that I'm sure almost everyone has experienced.  I hope it translates here. Growing up sucks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p><b> <i>“Is it raining where you are?” </i></b><br/>
</p>
  <p>Ricky pressed the lock button on the side of his phone and the screen went black, no longer shining bright in the shadowy darkness of his bedroom.<br/>
Ricky was unsure of the response he even wanted out of Chris. </p>
  <p>The thunderstorm outside had slowed to a gentle patter on the window.  The sound of the rain had made Ricky nostalgic for a time that had long since passed, a time that slipped away from him before he had even known it was gone.  <i>When was the last time he held me?</i></p>
  <p>The longing in Ricky’s chest had come on when the rain started around sundown.  He had retreated to his bedroom to bury himself in the blanket and hope that if he just <i>imagined</i> hard enough, he could once again feel Chris’ arm reach around his middle and pull him in tight.  It had been years but he could almost still feel it.  </p>
  <p>The band got bigger; Chris found some other people to hang out with and hook up with, it wasn’t just Ricky anymore.  Chris had options.<br/>
They were no longer just kids putzing around in a botched tour van, wild and high on their fleeting youth and tastes of making it big.<br/>
The eroticism of being young and untamed was gone.  Their love was gone.</p>
  <p>He had nearly made it through the storm without succumbing to the longing.  He had tried to convince himself that if he was able to fall asleep, the ache in his chest would be gone in the morning, forgotten just like the glimpses of the past still filed away in his head, in his heart.  He might just be able to wake up in the morning, ground wet with the night’s rain and the remaining fog hugging low as the sun rises, and return to normalcy… return to the day-to-day where he and Chris are just bandmates and the past is left in the past.</p>
  <p>He hadn’t made it to morning.  Ricky wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep and he knew that.  The nervous energy of staying up late, IMing or texting back and forth with someone that you might just <i>love</i>; somehow over those messages an energy is shared just for the night.  It seems to flee when you wake up in the morning.  </p>
  <p>He wasn’t 15 anymore.  Hell, he wasn’t even 22 anymore.<br/>
How dare time pass.  How dare the softest moments of his life be taken away from him, memories fading slowly, his brain didn’t even know they were escaping him. 
It had been him and Chris against the world.  When you are in that time of your life, you lean heavily on those who you grow close to; blindly trudging your way through life without your own two feet to stand on, so you rely on others to prop you up.<br/>
Chris was what had pulled him out of the darkness.  This band, this passionate <i>thing </i>that they were kindling being the beacon to get them out of their youth and into something worthwhile.  Ricky hadn’t known that he would grow so much to be where he was now, that even then, he was still a kid.  </p>
  <p>It was easy for them to fall into the comfort of one another.  Life on the road was hard, and exploring this life was made easier by someone who understood what it was like to cycle through the same two pairs of jeans for six months…nervously picking at the remnants of black nail polish, questionable stick and poke tattoos, and living off of Redbull and ramen cups bought at Walmart at one in the morning.  Them both screaming out for dear life on stage every night, only to fall into one another after the show, kissing in the alley behind the venue in between Ricky’s cigarettes, teasing and making each other melt.  It was a strange time, but it was <i>their</i> time.  Nobody else would have understood.  </p>
  <p>His eyes had adjusted back to the darkness of his room and he was able to see the soft glow coming through his window. He pulled the blanket over his head.<br/>
The ache in his chest made him feel like he was sinking; his face scrunched up almost in a dry sob.  He wanted his body to turn in on itself.</p>
  <p><i>Maybe, just maybe,</i> Chris will get it.  Chris will understand the impossible subtlety of Ricky’s text.  Chris will flash back to that time just as Ricky had, and they could share something again, even if it was just until the sun rises. </p>
  <p>The screen of Ricky’s phone lit up where he had placed it face down next to his shoulders.  A beacon of light, hope, <i>maybe, just maybe…</i></p>
  <p><b><i>“No”</i></b> </p>
</div>
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